


The Punishment (Game)

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Corporal Punishment, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, comfort isn't about being soft and gentle, but about giving someone what they need the most, even when it means you have to break them down to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Punishment (Game)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ' _atonement_ ' square for my hc_bingo table. Thanks to uniquepov for the beta.

From the moment he steps through the Floo into Grimmauld Place, Harry knows what the evening has in store for him.

The sitting room is a mess of last night's takeaway, still left on the coffee table, and the vibrant knit-afghan from Molly left bunched at one end of the sofa cushions. Nothing's been touched since the night before, when he and Draco went to bed and left the clean-up for the morning. And a quick glance towards the armchair, just off to the left of the fireplace, confirms that Draco has actually _added_ to the mess by leaving open and empty bottles of Butterbeer on the side table. There's a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky as well, and Harry purses his lips.

It's not the mess that bothers him, although it's out of character for Draco to leave the place in such a state. But Harry knows by now what the mess means, asking Harry for something that Draco never has the words to ask for himself. It's all the start of a familiar game that Draco plays – one they've gone through dozens of times over the years – and Harry stalks off deeper into the house to seek him out.

It doesn't take much time at all to locate Draco, with his head stuck in the opened refrigerator while he rummages around for something else to drink. Before Draco can realise that he's even in the room, Harry fists his hand in the short blond strands of his hair and hauls Draco back away from the fridge. Draco's feet scramble and slip on the floor, and his arms shoot out to catch and claw at Harry's arm as Harry drags him up the cellar steps. He hears several muttered curses when Draco struggles to get his feet up under him, but he ignores them, his mind focussed only on getting Draco up the stairs.

The moment they hit the landing, Draco wrenches free of Harry's grasp.

"Get your bloody hands off me, Potter," he snaps, and as Harry spins around to face him, Draco's eyes narrow and his chin lifts a fraction. Despite the protest, Harry reaches out again and curls his hand around Draco's bicep with a bruising force, dragging him down the hall. This time, Draco's struggles are more violent, lashing out with his feet to kick at Harry's shins and clawing at his forearm in an effort to break Harry's hold on him. "I said stop _fucking_ touching me!"

"Be quiet, Draco." Harry delivers the words in a calm and level tone, despite a wince of pain as Draco's foot connects squarely with an old bruise on his ankle. He tightens his grip on Draco's arm and keeps them moving until they step into the dining room with the old, dusty table that they never use for dinner.

There's still a light spot in the dust, in the shape of Draco's upper body, left behind from the last time they did this, when the memories had washed over Draco until he couldn't sleep at night. It had been the same sort of mess that night to tip him off, and Harry had lit into Draco's arse until he'd broken down with his confession.

With all his strength, Harry flings Draco forward, letting go of his arm at just the right moment to send him careening into the table's edge. Draco hits the edge with enough force to stun him briefly, and his body doubles over on instinct, leaving him bent forward over the table. Quicker than he can attempt to straighten himself, Harry removes his wand from the pocket of his robes and with a murmured spell, binds Draco's arms to the opposite end of the table.

He hears Draco let out a hiss, and watches as he gives a few frantic tugs at his arms only to find there's no give to the restraints.

"This isn't a _game_ , Potter, let me go!" Draco demands. Despite knowing that he can't see it, Harry shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest, taking a step back to lean against the wall and observe Draco for a long moment.

He'd asked Draco once why he does it. Why he goes through all the trouble of the games – the mess and the struggles and fighting – when he could just _ask_ Harry for what he needs. Draco had only said that he needed all of it, and then gone silent, refusing to explain it any further.

The lack of a verbal answer from Harry spurs Draco back into motion and he increases his struggles with a slew of curses slipping from his lips. It's Harry who tires of it first, and with a practised flick of his wrist, his wand temporarily transfigures into a narrow rattan cane. He gives it one sharp _thwack_ against his palm before he steps up behind Draco and taps it once across his arse through the fabric of his trousers. At the light touch, Draco goes still, and his voice is a sharp hiss when he speaks.

"Don't you dare."

"I believe I told you to be quiet," Harry reprimands as he pulls the cane away from Draco's arse. He moves himself just a few steps off to one side, where Draco can see him in his periphery, and begins giving the cane a few quick practice swings through the air, the whistle of it all but ringing in the quiet room. "But since you seem so keen to talk tonight, perhaps you ought to start telling me exactly why I'm doing this."

Harry lets his arm fly then and brings the cane down high across the curve of Draco's arse, and even with the fabric of Draco's trousers between his skin and the rattan, it makes a sharp snapping sound. Draco sucks in a breath between his teeth and Harry sees his hands clenching against the table's edge.

"How should I fucking know why you're doing it?"

"Wrong answer, Draco."

Without hesitation, Harry brings the cane down a second time, and then a third, laying the blows down over Draco's arse. He places each strike carefully, so as not to overlap, until he's certain he's covered every available inch, and then lashes down against the tops of Draco's thighs. Still no proper answer comes, and he pauses for a moment to let the staccato sound of Draco's breathing fill his ears.

"Tell me why I'm punishing you, Draco," Harry says when it seems that Draco should be able to speak clearly enough.

" _Fuck you_ ," comes the answer in a strained tone, and Harry nods to himself.

"Very well, then, if that's the way you want to be." He pauses to lean the cane carefully against the wall beside the china cabinet and then moves behind Draco to reach around him. Harry's fingers pull open the fastenings of Draco's trousers with ease, despite his renewed struggling, and he jerks them down by the waistband until the fabric is tangled around Draco's knees. Draco's briefs are next, peeled away from his skin more slowly, and Harry's hand briefly brushes against Draco's flaccid cock as he pulls the briefs down to let them tangle with his trousers.

He glances at Draco's face and sees his pinched expression, lower lip caught firmly between his teeth. With a sigh and shake of his head, Harry steps away and takes the cane in hand again. There are no more questions, then, only the whistle of the cane through the air, followed by the stinging snap of it striking against bare flesh as Harry swings his arm again and again. Several stripes layer across Draco's arse, placed carefully to overlap the first set as perfectly as he's ever been able to manage, until Draco's skin has flushed pink, with angry lines of red marking his cheeks.

Draco remains silent through it all, save for an occasional pained grunt, and Harry does not hesitate to start another set of lashings after placing a handful of stripes across the tops of Draco's thighs. Moving the cane back up to the curve of his arse, Harry begins all over again. His arm swings with more force, and the position of the cane changes just enough to criss-cross the previous marks already showing on Draco's skin. It's not until the fourth set of lashes, when the cane begins to break the skin and Draco's arse is half-smeared with blood, that Draco finally breaks.

A breath catches in his throat first, and the sound is quickly followed by one sob and then another, until Draco sags against the table and his hands uncurl from its edge. Still, Harry doesn't stop, continuing to bring the cane down onto Draco's skin.

"The Astronomy Tower."

The words are uttered so softly that Harry almost misses them over the sound of the rattan tearing into blood-slicked flesh. With a sigh of relief, Harry lets his arm drop to his side.

"What about it?" he asks, and Draco hesitates before he shakes his head. Harry quickly raises his arm once more and brings another blow of the cane down across his arse with enough force to pull a scream from Draco's lips.

"My fault!" Draco answers in a strangled sob when he regains the ability to speak. He pauses and takes a ragged breath before he drops his forehead down against the smooth wooden surface of the table, and his voice drops to a whisper as he repeats, "It was my fault."

With a careful flick of his wrist and a murmured spell, Harry's wand returns to normal, and he crosses the few steps between himself and Draco to settle his hand on Draco's back. "You were a frightened sixteen-year-old boy, Draco. I know plenty of others who'd have done the same things, had they been in your position, but they turned out all right in the end." He strokes his hand lightly down the length of Draco's spine, careful to stop before he touches any of his wounded flesh. Leaning down, Harry brushes his lips against Draco's hair and adds, "You did, too."

He straightens just as quickly as he'd bent down, and slides his hand down over Draco's arse, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from him as he strokes his hand over Draco's skin. "How many do you need?" Harry asks, and it takes several long seconds for Draco to give his answer.

"T-ten."

"Ten it is, then. Don't bother counting, tonight, Draco. Just close your eyes and think about what you've done." Harry waits for Draco's eyes to fall closed before he begins, bringing his hand down hard against Draco's beaten arse, listening to his palm smack against his skin. "Think about what happened that night on the tower," he instructs as he brings down the second and third blows.

"And think about what Dumbledore said to you there."

With the fourth blow, Draco begins to sob again, and Harry watches him sagging against the table.

"Think about what your actions caused," he says in a softer tone as the fifth strike comes down. He pauses there, letting the pain and his words sink in for one long moment before he draws his hand back for another strike.

"Now, think about everything you've done since then," Harry continues as he brings his hand down for the sixth blow. "All the good you've done, and all the ways you've changed." The seventh and eight blows come down, and Draco's sobs grow more intense, although he makes no move to pull away from the pain. The ninth blow lands, and Harry pauses. "Ask me, Draco."

Draco shakes his head, and Harry reaches his free hand out to thread his fingers into his hair with a gentle touch. "It's time to ask me, Draco," he encourages softly, and after one last hesitation, Draco speaks, his voice wavering and weak.

"Forgive me... _Please._ "

Harry keeps his hand in Draco's hair as he brings his other hand down one last time on Draco's arse, pulling another sob from him. Taking a ragged breath himself, Harry removes the bindings on Draco's wrists with a quick spell and tucks his arms up underneath him. Draco leans heavily against him as Harry pulls him upright and tight against his chest, smoothing his hand through Draco's hair as Draco buries his face against his neck.

"Shh, now," Harry murmurs softly, holding Draco upright and swaying them gently to help soothe him. "You're forgiven, Draco... Now let me get you cleaned up, all right?" Draco does nothing more than nod, and Harry continues to hold him carefully while he summons the afghan from the sofa. When it comes sailing into the room, he catches it and drapes it around Draco, pressing a light kiss against his lips.

"Relax now," he encourages as he gently guides Draco to bend over the table once again, smoothing his hand down over Draco's back through the quilt. "No more pain tonight."


End file.
